The Burning Man

5

To Ruth, the scenery had the look of a seventies summer holiday snapshot with colours that were too saturated to be real. A clear blue sky, verdant trees, sun-bleached grass and rolling, dusty, boulder-strewn hillsides. The white walls and pink-tiled roofs of the village glowed in the morning light.

It was warm and beads of sweat trickled down her brow, but her bonds prevented her from wiping them away. The tape across her mouth itched and she was sure she was developing an allergic reaction to the glue.

‘Why don’t you let her go? She won’t try to get away. I can’t believe you’ve kept her like that for a week.’ Miller became upset every time he saw Ruth, his discomfort made worse by his awareness that he was too ineffectual to do anything about it.

‘It’s not the getting away that I’m worried about.’ Veitch reached over and wiped Ruth’s damp brow with a handkerchief, not unkindly.

‘I know you say she’s some kind of witch, but I can’t believe that.’

‘This from a bloke who can cure any illness with a touch.’

‘That’s not witchcraft!’ Miller said, outraged. ‘It’s the power of God-’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now shut up. Your whining voice really gets on my tits.’

Miller fell silent, plucking at the grass beneath his legs like a spurned schoolboy.

Pensive, Veitch leaned back against the wheel of the car and watched Ruth for a moment. ‘You know I don’t want to have you trussed up like a Tesco chicken.’

Ruth glared at him.

‘Yeah, I know. Words are cheap. But I’ve seen what you’re capable of. You’re an A-bomb just waiting to detonate, only you don’t know it. You’re getting your memory back, I know, but you still haven’t remembered how to tap into that whole witchy Craft business. Which is good for me. Not too keen on waking up a toad, or with my insides on the outside. But pretty soon even that gag and those ropes aren’t going to stop you doing what you do. Then we’ll have to make a choice-’

‘Even you wouldn’t kill her!’ Miller interjected shrilly.

‘I told you to shut up.’

‘No!’ His voice cracked with emotion. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I don’t know why you’ve got us both. I was stupid to come with you. But I trusted you! You don’t feel like a bad man-’

‘Yeah, well, you’re an idiot.’

‘Why are you so horrible? What do you want?’

Veitch gently tapped one silver finger on the well-used map as he surveyed the landscape.

‘Why have we driven halfway across Europe?’ Miller continued. ‘What are we doing in Greece? Where are we?’

Veitch sighed. ‘Village down there is Myloi. They reckon Pythagoras used to have a mansion here … walked around the streets doing his studies and everything.’ He eyed Ruth slyly, but she showed absolutely no interest in his attempt at perspicacity.

‘But why-’ Miller whined until Veitch’s cold look cut him short.

‘Time’s running out. I’m not really what you’d call patient, but that ticking clock is making me worse. So I’ll say this once: don’t piss me off, either of you. We’re here because we’re going to my favourite holiday resort.’

‘Kalamata?’ Miller ventured.

‘The Land of the Dead.’

His mouth gaping, Miller tried to read Veitch’s face, then returned to his sullen grass-plucking.

A lazy, heady peace lay over the still countryside. Ruth enjoyed the sun on her face after being bundled up in the suffocating boot all the way down into the Peloponnese, with only the occasional stop on isolated back roads where she was allowed to stretch her legs. She’d been plotting different ways to break free, but Veitch was clever and no opportunity ever arose. The longer the journey continued, the more she feared for her safety. She recalled Church describing all the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons that Veitch had brutally murdered over the years. Quite why he was taking his time over her she wasn’t sure, but sooner or later her moment would come.

He had been right about one thing: her control of the Craft was growing stronger. Her attempt to use the Craft in Oslo had drained her completely, and the iniquities and exhaustion brought on by her captivity had made it difficult to focus and concentrate. But it felt as if it was built into the architecture of her mind, and as soon as she fully understood the pattern of it she would be able to utilise it to its fullest. All she needed was time.

‘What’s that?’ Miller startled her out of her thoughts. He was on his feet, pointing into the trees down the slope towards the village.

Veitch was beside him in an instant, alert and threatening.

‘I couldn’t tell if it was a man, or an animal, or a bit of both. It was watching us. You think I’m mad, don’t you?’

‘You’re not playing with a full deck, mate, that’s for sure, but I’ve seen enough weird shit not to dismiss something like that.’ He looked round at Ruth uneasily. ‘I should stick you back in the boot while I check this out.’

‘Let her stay out longer,’ Miller pleaded. ‘She must be going insane in there all that way.’

‘I don’t trust her or you. Frankly, I don’t trust anyone.’ He looked down the dusty road. ‘When are Etain and the others coming back?’ he muttered irritably to himself before appearing to make up his mind. He grabbed another length of rope from the car and tied Ruth’s wrist bonds to the bumper. ‘That’ll hold. All right, you’re coming with me,’ he said to Miller.

He set off down the slope. Miller hesitated for a second before scuttling over to Ruth. He slipped something into her hand before smiling weakly and hurrying after Veitch. It was a Swiss Army knife.

Ruth’s muscles ached from too many hours tied up in the boot of the car, but she feverishly opened the knife and struggled to work the blade against the rope at her wrist. It was slow, and difficult, and within moments blood was flowing from numerous cuts. Anxiously, she watched Veitch and Miller clamber over rocks as they made their way down to the tree-line.

After the third time she dropped the knife, frustration set in. It always looked so easy when she saw it on film. She could tell from Veitch’s body language that he could see nothing in the trees, and soon he would be making his way back. She’d never cut the rope in time. Tears of anger burned her eyes.

But just as Veitch turned to make his way back up the slope, there was a sensation like a shadow falling across the land. Ruth had the briefest notion of the sky turning black, and then of a sapphire snake moving sinuously towards her across the ground.

Why is the Blue Fire coming to me? she thought, confused.

And then a face filled her whole vision, so close she could only get an impression of it — part animal, part human, but with blazing eyes that were filled with a disturbing madness, and a smile that suggested uncontrolled sexuality. And then she knew no more.